On erre
by Think.Analyze.BeYou
Summary: "You're Kaoru," they all tell him. But he doesn't know who Kaoru is, and the face in the mirror is a complete stranger. (Kaoru-centric, no pairings).


**Note:** This story is _**discontinued**_. I wrote this in 2012, and then I stopped shortly after (and ignored it for two years) when I realized I had no idea where it was going. I still have no ideas on how to continue it, and I most likely never will continue it. If you have ideas and would like to continue this yourself, or change it, or take the idea and do something else with it, go ahead. What I'm pretty much doing here is putting my old furniture on the curb in front of my house for the public to claim, hahaha.

**Thank you** to potionwine for encouraging me and being the most talented author on this website and probably all of the world wide web too. I still take your advice everywhere else in my life even though I don't write much anymore. I also probably wouldn't be posting this if you hadn't told me what you told me like two years ago.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Ouran High School Host Club.

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On erre

The only thing he remembered was a massive bang, and a striking pain that shot through his side. The sound was more of a sensation than a noise, and then he was flung through the air. Literally tossed, like a limp rag, until everything went pitch black, as if someone had turned off the lights in a windowless house.

When his eyes opened again, a deep cerulean sky stretched across his vision. He stared, registering the sounds of a busy street, and yelling voices. A ring of anxious faces formed around him, eyes staring down, frantic voices speaking too fast and all at once, so much that it made the pain at the back of his skull pulsate. The firm asphalt dug into his scalp. He blinked, and attempted to push himself up with shaking arms. About a dozen hands reached out to push him down at once.

One of the faces, carefully lifting his whirring head to rest on his palms, spoke, "Stop that, are you trying to kill yourself or something?"

A siren wailed in the distance, the sound piercing his ears as it came closer. He turned his face (ignoring the disapproving grunt from the one cradling his head) to peer at the group of people surrounding him. A few cheeks were tear-streaked, and he wondered why they were crying when they didn't even know him.

A short, plump woman blubbered, burying her face in her hands, "He just walked out in front of me, an-and there was nothing I could do!" She choked on her own voice, speaking in English. A man of similar appearance stood by her, speaking small words of comfort.

The slamming of doors sounded, and the cluster of people drew back slightly when two medics in jumpsuits knelt down beside him.

"You've gotten yourself really banged up," the woman said. "What's your name?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but his voice wouldn't come, because a name wouldn't come.

She frowned. "Okay, well, don't worry about it right now," she said, gesturing to the other paramedic.

* * *

When he woke again a second time, he was facing a scene oddly similar to the one from before. The difference being, there was no sky and instead of aggravated pavement he could feel himself lying on a stiff bed.

Other than the change of setting, he was faced with the same set of faces staring intently at him.

"Kaoru?"

It was spoken too quickly and all the eyes were on him so it was impossible to tell which one of them had said it. It suddenly struck him how awful it was that he didn't recognize what could only be his own name.

"How are you feeling?"

Kaoru lifted his gaze and met a pair of hazel eyes.

"Fine."

Surprisingly, his voice did not sound as scratchy as he thought it might, but it did come out weaker than expected, like a faint whisper.

His lips felt hard and stale, his tongue felt drained and dry, and his entire face felt parched and stung in a few areas, but it was weak compared to the ache in his neck and vertebrae.

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**A.N:**

The main plotline is figuring out why he was running so recklessly that he crossed a street without looking. And that's why I can't continue this, because I have absolutely no idea why he did that, hahahaha. If you do, that's great and I'd love it if you told me or linked me to your own fic. By the way, the title is French; it means "one wanders". Personally I don't like it very much, but it's better than all the others I came up with. It's very hard to come up with a title for an incomplete work. The title usually comes last because it should reflect an ongoing theme in the story or some kind of phrase that is relevant to the story as a whole.


End file.
